


In the Cold and the Snow

by Funkspiel



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fainting, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Unrequited Love, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/pseuds/Funkspiel
Summary: Theseus might be new to the police unit, but he isn't new to Percival Graves. He should have seen the warning signs. He knew his friend was a workaholic. He knew he never stopped. So when he collapses, it comes as no surprise - and yet, Theseus' heart still stops.





	In the Cold and the Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TycoonTwister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TycoonTwister/gifts).



> Sorry it's late! I've been working on this over the course of two weeks as I've had time, but things just kept getting in the way. I hope you like it. <3 Happy holidays!

In hindsight, Theseus should have known, should have recognized the signs. New as he was to the unit, he could have blamed it on that if it were any other member of the team. But he was not new to Percival Graves. Their history was long, filled with war, and even if it wasn’t -- he was a detective. Observation was not only his forte, but the way he made a living. He should have recognized the difference between Graves’ dry cough the day before and the wet one that had since developed. Or the way he’d suddenly go silent - not breathing at all - trying to supress the urge to fall into another fit. How his breath whistled and wheezed like a haunted house. How he couldn’t quite stand fully straight or open his eyes past a subtle yet swollen squint. Irises glassy, complexion pale. Through and through, the man was ill - which in and of itself was not a huge problem. People got sick and worked through it all the time, it was the nature of the job.

People didn’t usually  _ ignore _ it though.

Days stretched on and Theseus did not notice how wet and how serious the cough had grown until he could practically hear Graves’ lungs vibrating from within his chest, each coughing fit more furious than the last. 

He should have known that this would happen though. 

He knew Percival was a workaholic. 

He knew he wouldn’t stop.

And yet it was still a surprise when Theseus got out of his car on a frigid december morning, his breath a thick plume that still managed to escape his scarf, and saw Percival climb out of his own vehicle as well just a few spots ahead. The moment he saw him, he knew something was different from before. The man’s skin looked chill as ice and just as white as what little snow had managed to fall last night. The tip of his nose was pink, and his lips were so chapped they looked painful even from where Theseus was standing. His hands shook as he placed his coffee atop the roof of his car to fish out his bag, and the way he swayed should have set warning bells in the redhead’s mind blaring. But it was the early shift and Theseus hadn’t consumed his own coffee yet.

So he only watched as Graves turned on heel -- coffee cup forgotten atop his car -- and began to totter towards the building. Theseus narrowed his eyes, perplexed by the sluggishness of his normally nimble friend, only for a particularly sharp blast of wind to cause his eyes to water and slam shut. He stopped where he was and braced himself against the gust, but even so it managed to pierce his thick clothing like knives that stung and bit at him. It was only a few seconds, but the gout of wind felt as though it went on forever, and when finally it stopped, Theseus sighed and allowed his shoulders to finally fall slack.

“Bloody winter,” he cursed, wiping the water from his eyes, only to still at the sight that finally cleared before him. It was Percival, only he wasn’t standing anymore. Instead the man was face down in the snow that had blanketed the parking lot, still and silent. Wind tugged at the hem of his coat and the shortness of his hair, flecking him with white, and still he did not stir.

Theseus felt his heart drop into his belly.

“Graves!” He shouted, feet skidding unsteadily on the slickness of the lot for a moment before finally gaining enough traction to move. He slid to a stop and crashed to his knees beside his friend. There was blood on the snow - more than there should be - but the rational side of his brain reminded him that head wounds bled more. It was easy enough to find the small gash in Graves’ brow, easier still to dismiss it as minor and deem moving him agreeable. So he gently shifted the smaller detective into a rescue position and dipped his fingers beneath the sharp stubble of his jaw to find his pulse.

He heaved a huge gust of relief when Graves suddenly groaned and opened his eyes, lashes fluttering against the flurries steadily falling onto them. He flinched, one hand straying to the cut on his brow, and Theseus quickly stopped him.

“You fell,” he said, soft as not to hurt the man’s head just in case sound made anything worse. “But that’s not all, is it? How bad, Graves?”

The other detective licked his lip, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s not that ba--”   
“How. Bad.”

Graves grimaced.

“I passed out, Theseus. I think that sums it up pretty well.”

“You stubborn bastard.”

“I’m fine,” Graves said, though the words came out more as a sigh than the gruff tone Theseus was used to. He leaned back, scowling, but allowed Graves to try and wrestle himself up of his own accord. His arms shook as he tried to do something as simple as sitting up, only to let out a shaky breath and curse through his teeth. The sick detective wrenched his eyes shut and let his head fall back into the snow for a moment, too dizzy and weak to move, and sucked in a large, steadying breath -- no doubt waiting for the inevitable.

“Perce,” Theseus said, and gone was the jovial tone most of the station was used to, making Graves flinch. “This isn’t healthy.”

The detective opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, only to turn quickly back onto his side and cover his mouth with an elbow, body wracked with another coughing fit. Theseus steadied him by his shoulders and held him through it, all too aware of the way the cold bit through the knees of his trousers -- all too aware of how much worse it must feel for Graves, already suffering as he was.

And now that the thought was in his mind, he couldn’t help but notice the way the man’s body was quaking beneath his fingers. Shaking as though it might break apart at any moment. Thin, quick shivers that were beginning to have longer and longer pauses of stillness between bouts. 

When the coughing fit was done, Graves hung his head between his shoulders as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I had work to do,” he said simply, voice so hoarse Theseus barely made it out.

“The work’s always gonna be there, Perce. But if you keep treating yourself like this, how much longer do you think you’re gonna be around to tackle it?”

Graves stilled, but could not meet his eyes.

Caught in the moment was they were -- there, knee deep in snow and concern and shame -- neither man could resist jumping when another voice suddenly kicked in their two cents.

“I told you not to come in,” Chief Picquery said casually yet pointedly over a delicate sip of coffee, one brow quirked. Theseus couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied at the sudden fear that straightened Graves’ spine. 

“I only just got your text when I parked, I was already here--”

“You drove here like this?”

The question, to an untrained ear, sounded innocent enough. But in it, Theseus could tell their boss was furious.

“I had reports to finish,” Graves finished lamely.

Silence reigned but for winter’s whisper, its icy fingers dragging at their clothes, before finally Picquery moved. With a sigh, she set her cup down onto the pavement and bent down to grab Graves beneath one arm while gesturing for Theseus to grab the other.

“Help me get him up, Scamander,” she said, and he quickly scrambled to do so -- Graves blushing furiously all the while. But the man was smart enough to recognize the hole he had dug himself into, so he didn’t bother protesting when both parties threw an arm over their shoulder and began to slowly lead him away, only…

“The building is that way,” Graves tried.

“You’re not taking so much as one damn step in that building until you can breathe without being confused for a car engine, Graves. Consider this a suspension -- off the books, of course. Paid suspension, until Scamander deems you fit for duty.”

Theseus had been nodding all the while, thrilled to finally have someone on his side, only to still when Graves did at that last bit.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m moving all your assignments to the Goldstein sisters. Consider this your top priority. Understood?”

“Phina, you can’t be serious,” Graves lamented as he they got closer to his car, only to realize Picquery had no intention of leading them to it. 

“Extremely. I know you’re an adult and you shouldn’t need babysitting, Graves, but you forced my hand on this one. So I’m not going to spare you dignity on this one. I am very much assigning Theseus to  _ babysit  _ you since you’re incapable of making decisions that benefit your health. Take this as the lesson that it is and learn from it if you don’t want to be subjected to this again.”

“Phina!”

“Don’t you ‘Phina’ me, you great lout, you had several days of chances to prove to me you can take care of yourself. And you have an iPhone, Percival. I know you read that message before you got in your car.”

Theseus felt like an intruder on something intimate, but he couldn’t help but get distracted by the closeness of the two of them or the rarely vulnerable pout that the woman had managed to put on the normally stoic man’s face. 

As they got to Theseus’ car, he quickly unlocked the vehicle and helped Picquery stuff the grumpy man into the passenger’s side. As he closed the door, he didn’t need to look to know Graves was scowling up a storm behind him. 

Seraphina lowered her voice so Graves would not hear and said, “I’m sorry about this, Scamander, but I can’t imagine anyone else having even a remote chance of successfully dealing with him like this. You can expect a day off in compensation for this some time in the future.”

Theseus blinked.

“It’s not a problem, chief. I want to see him well again just as much as you do. We’re a team after all, right?”

Picquery gave him a strange look then. Not exactly negative or suspicious, but there was a keenness to it that made Theseus nervous and had the hair on the back of his neck on end.

“Yes,” she finally said, “Of course. Anyone would do this for the sake of the team, I’m sure,” and he noted its pointedness for what it was.

Theseus dipped his head and tried to hide the heat that attempted to crawl into his cheeks. Picquery looked from him to the car’s occupant and back again.

“This is who he is, Theseus. He puts his work first. There’s a terribly good chance that isn’t going to change. ‘For the sake of the team’ or otherwise.”

“I’m not trying to--”

She grabbed his shoulder and patted him twice, and to Graves or any onlooker it would look like encouragement.

“That’s what we all said,” she said softly, “In the beginning.”

It felt like peering behind the curtain, and for a moment that seemed to last forever, Theseus didn’t know what to say. He could only watch as she told him one more time to look after Graves and not to let him come to the office until he was well and truly better. And then she turned on heel and walked away. He watched, coat whipping, as she paused beside the mess of snow where she had found them to give her abandoned coffee a remorseful look, pick it up, and make her way inside. It wasn’t until she was well and truly gone that Theseus quickly made a beeline to his side of the car and slipped inside. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and Graves chuckled.

“Intense?”

“A little, yea. Is she always like that?”

“Pretty much. She’s chief for a reason.”

“That wasn’t just a chief talking.”

“No,” Graves admitted. “It wasn’t. She and I go way back.”

“Obviously.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said as Theseus turned on his car and began to drive away. “You can just take me to my apartment and enjoy a day off and I won’t tell--”

“--Few things wrong with that. First off, I have orders. Secondly, I don’t trust you not to badger one of the poor interns to electronically wire your work to you, you sneaky sonofabitch, and lastly, if you think you’re only taking a  _ day _ off, you’ve got another thing coming to you mate.”

Graves blinked, genuinely shocked, and in his expression Theseus could tell the man had not thought he would truly have to deal with being babysat. 

“Thes, you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Thes.”

“Don’t you ‘Thes’ me, man, you did this to yourself. I’m taking you home, I’m loading you up with soup and drugs, and then I’m going to tie you to your bed if I have to and make you binge watch shitty tv with me until you finally fall asleep like a normal human being. And if you’re good, maybe we’ll order in for dinner.”

“Holy shit, you’re not kidding.”

“Not even a little.”

“You’re going to stay over, aren’t you?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Oh god,” he moaned as he pushed his head back into the passenger’s headrest, eyes shut and lips pouting. Theseus smiled.

“I take my job very seriously, mate.”

“I hate you.”

“You can hate me as much as you like so long as you get better.”

It was an easier ordeal to get Graves into his apartment, but not so much to get him into comfy clothes and tucked away in bed. Theseus ended up having to scour the bedroom for e-readers, phones (yes, plural), iPads, laptops -- you name it -- before finally trusting Percival to actually rest after he left the man to his own devices (pun not intended) for a few minutes only to find him halfway through an email, tongue peeking between his lips as he tried to focus through the fever.

But when all was said and done, and he finally had the man in bed, in comfy clothing, with a belly full of what little soup he could manage to eat and a trashy Christmas movie playing, Theseus couldn’t help but feel accomplished at the first sound of Graves’ congested snoring. The man was curled into his side, head pillowed on Theseus’ stomach, looking for all the world a hot mess. He carded his fingers into the smaller detectives dark hair, nails light and soothing on his scalp, and thought of the words Seraphina told him. He remembered the cold and the snow and the look on her face.

Regret. Concern. As though she had spotted a pattern she had seen before.

_ “That’s what we all said in the beginning.” _

But it wasn’t the beginning, not for Theseus. He knew Percival Graves. From the way he looked when he won a game of poker to the way he took his coffee. From the sound of his nightmares to the look on his face when he was hiding pain. This wasn’t the beginning, not for Theseus.

His heart had been a candle flame for quite some time, burning patiently in the window. 

A soft chuffing sound broke him from his thoughts, and when he looked down, two fever glazed eyes stared back at him -- amazed.

“You’re still here.”

He ran his fingers through the other’s hair, confident enough that he wouldn’t remember come tomorrow to be so liberal with his touches, and smiled.

“Told you, mate. I take my job very seriously.”

Percival nodded at that, like it solved every mystery of the world, and tucked his face drowsily back into Theseus’ belly. 

“M’glad it was you,” he murmured.

Theseus pressed his head back against the headrest and sighed, “Me too,” and remembered the snow and the wind and the look on Sera’s face. “Me too.”


End file.
